


Day Thirteen

by FellQueen (Nikasha)



Series: Kinktober 2019 [13]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bondage, Creative uses of thread, Error/ink - Freeform, Haphephobia, M/M, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikasha/pseuds/FellQueen
Summary: Day ThirteenPrompt: RestraintsPairing: Error!Sans/Ink!Sans





	Day Thirteen

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t realize the irony of the day number until five seconds ago. Also phew I’m behind.
> 
> Ink is aro-ace and Error is haphephobic in this. I’ll talk about it more in the end note if you’re curious how that works. I wanted to challenge myself a bit.

Ink had to admit, hanging upside down was giving him a headache. It was fascinating, considering he didn’t have blood or a brain to be bothered by gravity. And he was pretty sure his magic was...What was he doing? He forgot.  
Ink looked up—down?—at the black skeleton just a couple inches below his head. That guy was rightside-up...Or was he upside down and Ink was right-side up? Was there a right side and a wrong side in the Antivoid?  
Anyway.  
“Error,” he sang, watching with amusement as glitches sparked across his body in obvious irritation. “Please let me down? You’re gonna get bored if I’m stuck up here.”  
Error scowled, as per usual, hands twitching like spiders as he contemplated decapitating his enemy. Ink wondered absently why he hadn’t tried before. Or had he? He would have to consult his scarf later.  
“I p-p-prefer you up th-there and away from me-e,” he hissed, stuttering through his words.  
Ink whined. “But I thought we were gonna play today? I got all psyched up for it.”  
Error’s scowl shifted to a smirk as fast as code across a screen. “We are. I d-d-don’t have to tou-ouch you for tha-at.”  
Ink blinked. “Um. Okaaayyy. How am I gonna enjoy it if I’m not getting touched, though?”  
“So many que-e-estions,” Error snapped. “Just do as I sa-ay.”  
Ink shrugged. “Okay, but this is starting to hurt. Can I at least be head-up?”  
Error seemed to consider it, narrowed sockets giving Ink a once-over. Just when Ink was thinking he was going to let him literally hang, Error raised a hand and flicked his fingers. The cyan strings on Ink tightened and twisted, cartwheeling Ink upright.  
The artist gagged and leaned forward. “Ugh...”  
“Don’t pu-puke in he—!” He cut out completely out of horror.  
Ink groaned. “Slowly might be better next time.” He lifted his head, eyelights flicking through a swirl and a toxic symbol quickly. “What were you saying?”  
Error rolled his eyelights. “Alright, inkbag, listen up.” He tapped his fingers together. “I know this k-kind of thing ain’t yo-ou-our deal. But if you touch m-me, it won’t be f-fun. Capiche?”  
“None of this is new,” Ink pointed out, blinking through a question mark.  
“Just listen! So. I’m not go-on-onna touch you, and you ain’t gonna tou-ouch me. What IS gonna touch you...” He lifted his hand and clenched his fingers into a fist.  
Ink gasped as the strings wrapped around his body tightened convulsively. They dug into his bones even through his clothes, and one was riding up very close to his pubic bone. He blinked, rainbow spreading across his face. “O-Oh.”  
“Heh.” Error smirked, loosening the threads again. “That’s just the start of it. But hey, you rem-m-member the safe wo-or-ord?” He always glitched worse when he mentioned that little rule, like he was horrified with himself but having too much fun to make it stop.  
Ink nodded. He tested the strings on his wrists and femurs just out of curiosity. His bones creaked under the pressure as they tightened in response and he quickly stopped. “Yeah, I remember.”  
Error’s body hummed and the code glitches around him twitched. He seemed...nervous? “Good.”  
Ink looked at him and cocked his head. “We don’t have to.”  
Error snapped his fingers. The strings started twisting around Ink, finding ways under his clothes and sliding against his bones in ways that made him squirm. “I’m not worried ab-bout me. It’s you.”  
Ink looked at the surprisingly serious expression on Error’s face and grinned. “It may not be my favorite thing, but I can do it for you,” he coaxed. “I’ll be fine, Error.”  
The glitch snorted irritably even as he blushed a blue color. “Yeah, whatever, asshole.”  
Ink struggled for a moment. “Uhh should I take off my...?”  
There was a high-pitched noise like fabric on fabric, then the strings suddenly jerked away from Ink, slicing through his clothes. The tattered remnants fell apart, drifting to the ground or laying uselessly on Ink.  
The artist paused, eyelights shifting to an exclamation point and a strange red circle, before he abruptly laughed. “Oh! Ok. Never mind then.”  
Error hummed, pleased with himself, as the strings coiled further around the glistening bones now presented to him, bright blue stark against the black and white of Ink’s form. He watched one slither along the same path as one of Ink’s tattoos, then slot through a hole in his sacrum like a shoelace.  
Ink gasped and bucked like he was trying to escape the tickling sensation. “Woah, wait, I wasn’t ready!”  
“Uh huh,” Error replied, layering the sound with all the doubt he could muster. “You’re glowing, trash.”  
Ink glanced down to see his pelvis was in fact glowing, his magic gathering there readily. He jerked at the strings around his wrists. “E-Error, I need the paint.”  
Error hummed shakily again, wiggling his fingers and making the strings dance through Ink. “I dunno, you se-eem fine to m-me.”  
Ink hesitated, but blurted out, “Seriously, I need them. Or I’ll call it.”  
Error sighed, shaking his head, but the strings released one of his hands, letting Ink reach the paints at his sash still more or less attached to him. While he was free, Ink yanked off his scarf and got it out of harm’s way. He grabbed a couple different colors and drank, sighing shakily before holding his hand back out. “Okay, I’m good.”  
The threads snaked back around his bones, teasing through his radius and ulna and sliding against the small crevasses in his wrist bones. Ink jerked in response, keeping his eyes on Error.  
The glitch sat, pulling his shorts down to free his blue length as he kept his eyes on Ink. He started to absently rub a hand over his cock, then other preoccupied with making the strings glide across Ink.  
The artist shuddered when the one in his sacrum started to move again, smoothly sliding through his sensitive tailbone before looping back to fit through another hole. It tied itself back over, creating an intricate pattern as it weaved through his sacrum with painful slowness. By the time it was done, Ink was sagging against his bonds, jaw hanging as he fought for breath. “Heh...Forgot...how nice that feels,” he admitted.  
Error made a noise of agreement, twisting his hand over his cock and hissing softly.  
Ink glanced up and let his magic build on his pelvis until it formed, a dick of scintillating colors that amused him. Sometimes he wondered why it wasn’t...black...but now probably wasn’t the time. Maybe. Actually, why wasn’t it black? Was he made of ink? What was he—?  
Ink arched as the threads found his length, curling around it in a tight ring like a bizarre imitation of a cunt. Not as wet or warm, but still something that Ink was willing to push his hips into.  
Ink moaned, tugging at the strings. “Error,” he growled, lights flickering through red.  
“No-o,” Error commanded. “Don’t do th-that.”  
Ink relaxed again, or as much as he could with his cock being slid against by Error’s magic. Well, there was a fun way to think of it. “Guess this is kinda like fucking,” he laughed breathlessly. “I mean, my magic fucking into your magic, it’s basically the same thing.”  
Error scowled. “Sh-shut up, don’t you fucking go-o around telling people we screw-ew-ewed.”  
Ink shrugged as best he could with some threads intertwined in his shoulder. “No promises!”  
Error growled. The strings tightened and Ink yelped, assaulted by a pleasurable pressure mixed with sudden discomfort from the tightness on his dick becoming a bit too much.  
“Um,” Ink blurted out, eyes hazy as he fought to stay in control of his body’s reactions to the stimulation. “Move faster, please?”  
Error shrugged even as his hand obviously jerked harder on himself, apparently pleased by Ink’s request. “Sure.”  
Ink wasn’t a fan of sex, to be sure. It was the sort of intimate fun that either required emotional attachment or an interest in carnal pleasure. For the most part, Ink had neither of those things. But he liked to make Error happy. And currently making Error happy meant tilting his head back and crying out when the threads along his length undulated. The one twisted through his sacrum tightened and he almost yelled, bucking into the blue grip.  
A thread wound itself around his sternum like a snake sliding along a tree trunk, twisting and winding until it stopped at his collarbone. It started weaving itself around his vertebrae into a bizarre collar.  
He opened his mouth to snark at Error when the threads on his neck tightened. He flinched and clicked his mouth shut again. Dying wouldn’t be permanent for him, never really could be anymore, but it would be unpleasant and take him out of the multiversal equation for weeks to months. He didn’t want to be killed.  
Not to mention, he was pretty sure Error would be guilt-ridden for the entire time plus some.  
Ink was startled from his thoughts by a string playing over the slit of his cock, sliding over it then curling around his girth. It stayed over his slit and he realized with a mix of fascination and dismay that any movement would have that pressing down against him.  
Error was breathing fairly hard, hand moving over himself quickly and blue across his face. He closed his bad socket, the other riveted on Ink’s splayed form.  
The strings alternately tightened and loosened, sliding over him. Pleasure was coiling through him, but not enough. “Error,” he cried, jerking against the threads when it caressed over his dick again. “Please? More!”  
Error huffed. “Gr-Greedy.” Ink watched him think, obviously trying to figure out how to do that without touching him. He finally stood again and walked over to Ink.  
They stared at each other, Error with something like trepidation and Ink with confusion. Error passed something out of Ink’s sight to a group of his threads. It moved under the artist, and he felt something pressing against his entrance.  
“What was that?” he asked curiously, twisting and failing to get a better look.  
Error chuckled shakily. “D-Don-on-on’t worry abou-out it.” He reached forward and, to Ink’s surprise, took his blue-wrapped magic in hand.  
Ink moaned, the sensation amplified by the strings and the idea that it was _Error_ actually touching him. It was kind of an ego boost, if anything.  
Error scowled like he heard his thoughts. “Just this on-once,” he growled.  
Ink was reduced to a gasping mess in moments, grinding urgently into Error’s hand. He was having trouble paying attention to anything else, but he noticed Error was focused on him and on his strings. “Error, wh...?”  
He felt the object behind him begin to press, slowly. Ink shied away, but he couldn’t go anywhere with his movement suspended and Error’s hand on his dick.  
There was a dark, glitched chuckle and whatever it was suddenly pierced him hard.  
Ink shouted, bucking and squirming, then falling into quiet gasps. “What is that?” he asked Error, much more urgently this time.  
Error shrugged. “Magic,” he said simply.  
The threads tightened and the magic withdrew, then began pushing into him again. It started up a harsh pace, Ink sagging into the strings holding him up as he was forced to stay still and take it. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned, his whole body throbbing.  
Error was moving his hand over his own length again, but he also kept pumping Ink’s, much more slowly than he was being fucked and his own hand was moving. Ink whimpered, begging, tormented.  
It was like a wave washing through him, control slipping from his fingers minute by minute. One second he was fine, the next he was shuddering as he fought himself. Then Error gave a rough twist of his hand and Ink fell apart. His hips jerked as he came, multicolor magic spilling across his hand. The threads behind him thankfully kept moving, fucking him through it, because Error almost instantly let go the minute he felt liquid on his hand. He grimaced, shaking it off a bit, then looked up to watch Ink’s dazed expression.  
The strings suddenly slackened and Ink yelped as he was lowered abruptly, collapsing to his knees, but with his arms still held out to the sides and away. He looked up just in time to see Error jerking off towards his face, moaning. Blue magic spurt towards him and he hastily shut his eyes, flinching away. The strings kept him from going far.  
Error wound down, panting and grinning at Ink’s expression. “Heh.”  
Ink pouted, but reached up to rub the blue away. Error took a couple steps back and collapsed onto the ground, sighing happily.  
Ink watched for a moment, then finished cleaning the jizz off his face. He sat next to Error, close but not touching. “Feel better?”  
“Mmhm,” Error hummed, eyes closing. “Thanks.”  
Ink scratched his cheekbone. “I’ll let you know when I’m up for fucking around again.”  
Error scoffed. “Aka ne-e-ever. I’ll let you kno-ow. And we ca-can go from th-th-there.”  
Ink beamed. “Who knew you’d be such a nice partner!”  
“Shut up, abomination.”

**Author's Note:**

> List used: https://twitter.com/idek_uggy/status/1178349575725174786?s=21
> 
> So! I researched a little bit, and I gathered that aro people can have relationships as long as it isn’t, you know, overly romanticized. And ace people, as long as they aren’t sex repulsed, can have sex. Similarly, haphephobia varies from person to person, but for some if they initiate contact, it won’t trigger the fear as bad.
> 
> This is just what I found. I’m not ace, aro, or haphephobic, nor remotely an expert, so take it with a grain of salt.


End file.
